


Oh Fortuna!

by AGDoren, ellethom



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M, Fortune Cookies, Hurt/Comfort, My First Work in This Fandom, USS ArchAngels, acceptances, bridal carry, denials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:33:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGDoren/pseuds/AGDoren, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellethom/pseuds/ellethom
Summary: Bridal Carry fic.  Not much else to it than that.  This is really my first fic in this fandom.  be gentle.





	Oh Fortuna!

**Author's Note:**

> ....soooo, hey. Not sure how this happened. On Tumblr of all places. Well, trashywestallen and I were engaged in a shipping moment. She made a good point about not Damseling Burnham, and I agree wholeheartedly...except she deserves at least one off of being treated like a damsel, damn it!
> 
> I didn't know whether to gift this to you or mark you as co-author. So, Co-defendant, it is! Or, co-conspirator? Thanks for the idea and the chats, I'm going down with this ship!
> 
> Enjoy, the first of many I am certain!

Stupid.  

 He never understood why people couldn't just follow his orders without so many damn questions.  Then again, he was never one to tow the line either.  Perhaps that was what he respected about her, that she knew the line, had a great familiarity with it, could quote that line chapter, verse, and rule of law.

And yet.

Michael Burnham could also erase that line, could eviscerate it at fifty paces as long as she believed she was right.  Wasn't that what lead him to her?  Wasn't that why he stole her from her own fate?

She was cold, it was the first thing he noticed when he picked her up.  Even through her lightweight thermal uniform.  He’d told her to not go out there, that the away mission could be fine without her.  Did she listen?

Did she ever?

 

Soft, cold but soft.  He held her close, the feel of her in his arms.  She stirred, only long enough to curve into his hold.  Lorca held her close, touching as much and as little as he could.  She wouldn’t appreciate being carried like some damn damsel in distress.  She would hate that.  A woman who could hold her own and take down anyone who stood in her way.  

No, he would hold her and his own desires as neatly as possible. “Two to the Med bay.” he sang to the computer.  A heat of flame rising through him as she stirred again at the sound of his voice.  The quake started, then stopped, and they were in the med-bay.  

“On the bed, Captain.”  He has a millisecond of lust, that the bed was just what was needed.  It was a microsecond that seemed to stretch out into forever, into the stars.  It was a male voice, however, not the siren of the woman in his arms. “Captain, please.”

Lorca nodded, of course, it was the sensible thing to do.  He shifted her, delicate in that moment though it was fleeting.  Michael Burnham was anything but fragile.  Except, in that sparse moment she was the most precious of cargo. “She’s cold.” he accuses as he lays her down. "She's cold."

Words are shouted, bodies tangle around the form of the woman on the bed.  He is pushed at some point, by someone with less rank and clearly not understanding that he, Lorca is a captain and shall stay right by this bed.

It’s Culber who finds the balls to shove him out of the way.  Lorca isn't certain if it's out of necessity, or if the good doctor had been storing that one up for a while. “You need to let us do our job.” Culber said. “Captain, you need to let us save her.”

He nodded because it was the correct answer at the moment.  Lorca, pointed his one hundred mile glare at the shorter man. “You do that.” he said, in the same tone he often used when facing down a threat. “Make certain you do that.”

Culber’s eyes relented to the threat, but the doctor still held his own. “Move aside, or it's on your threats be on your own head.”

He stepped back.

He watched.

He stayed.

\-----------------------------

 

It was a week later before everything coalesced back into a normalcy that did not involve heavy doses of medications that left her feeling muzzy and confused.  The three seconds before she was beamed back onto Discovery were like a century floating in the dead emptiness of space.

And the cold, it was so cold.

The bridge was the same; the faces were all there. Except one.  One space was empty.  She was both grateful and sad to see Ash’s space empty.  Michael shrugged, knowing that space would always catch her eye, knowing that whomsoever filled that space would always resonate with a discordant, indelible shudder.

Burnham felt eyes on her.  She turned to find the man who had clouded her mind while she slept, recovered, dreamed.  A look, a small nod and she followed him.

His ready room is as dim and mysterious as the first day she'd entered it.  The first day she had met.  Him.

He’s behind his table digging into his fortune cookies before the doors close. “Captain, I’m sure there is a reason you’ve ushered me into your cave.”

A smile cracks the man’s face.  It's nearly kind, only edges of something hard. “Just want to check on your status, Specialist.” he said. “Need to know my people are in top physical form.”

She cocked her head. “You should know,” she said, watching his long fingers crack open one of the pale treats. “You were there.”

He dips his head to hide his eyes, a trick she was well accustomed to in the short time serving under him. “I was.”

“You carried me out of the transporter room.” she said, watching him, watching his fingers move as they cracked at the cookie.

 “I did,” he said.

She nodded.  “You didn't have to, I mean…”

“You were on the floor after that transport.  You were in space for 3 seconds,” he said. “Two more seconds and..” his words hitch, his breath catches then stops.  A hiccup.  Not enough that anyone but those who knew him would have caught it.

She nodded again. “You stayed in the med bay.  I’m told you raised quite a fuss.”

He shrugged. “Someone had to.”

“Culber says you nearly hit him.” she accused, though the accusation didn't reach her brown eyes.

“Exaggerations are uncommon for scientific types.  I’m sure his love for me just makes it easier for flights of fancy. 

A silence slipped around them in the darkened room.  Lorca popped half of the cookie into his mouth and toyed with the tiny slip of paper. “Why,” she nearly whispers.

He doesn't answer.  Michael thinks it's a first, that he is at a loss for words.  But this isn't something far more noteworthy.  She realises then, he is holding back.  Holding himself back. “Why?” she asks again.

But the silence is engulfing, instead, she turns to leave from the same doors that had snicked shut just two minutes before.  “Specialist.” he called to her. “Don't you want to read your fortune?”

She wanted to ignore him, make him do that lip thing he does when she ignores him.  But, curiosity was a real bitch.  Instead, she turned and snatched the slip from his beautiful hands. A glare, silence, then she left, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her read the damn thing.

She was in her bed, hours later, before she opened the piece of paper in her hand.  Reading them, she didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or file for a return to prison 

**_“You are more important than you realize.”_ **


End file.
